The Frayed Edge Of Civility
by TWDAvengers
Summary: AU. Carol is a single mother in the world of the dead. Not only does she have her her infant daughter to care for she now has Beth and Shawn Greene to care for. The Dixon brothers don't know what they're getting into. Rated m for smut. Meth Caryl and later Carphia
1. Chapter 1

Carol had one fist pressed to the top left corner of the mirror in a tight fist, the other hand spread, fingers splayed about half way down the right side. She looked to the black heart tattooed on her wrist with Sophia's name in it and let out a sob, slamming her fist into the glass, which splintered under her hand. It didn't break, just blurred and marred her reflection as cracks spidered down it.

* * *

She'd been home, when this all started. She'd burned Ed's dinner and he'd backhanded her to the floor when the screams started. Carol thought they were her own and expected a fierce beating. She scrambled back and, after a moment someone burst through the door. Carol thought they had come to save her, and was relieved for a moment. But then terror took over.

The woman who had come into her home was dead. Her eyes were sunken in, there was a deep, bloody mark on her neck and her intestines spilled from the pink dress she wore. She was dragging one of her feet, it had to have been broken, that was facing the wrong way. She had stringy brown hair, matted with blood and there were bits of flesh between her teeth. Carol wondered, briefly if she was unconscious and having a nightmare. This couldn't be real. It wasn't. Was it?

Carol was on the floor, partially hidden by the couch, so the dead woman stumbled towards Ed, who was busy screaming at Carol. "You ugly, fat, stupid bitch! Burned my dinner! I'll tell you what, gonna whoop your ass and teach ya how to treat a man!" He was going for his belt when the dead woman latched her teeth deeply in the junction where his neck met the massive flesh that was his shoulder.

The fat, drunken man cried out and tried to push the zombie away, but she just came back again, biting into him and ripping a chunk from his arm. Carol, who was being ignored, pushed herself to her feet and ran past the horrific, bloody scene of a dead woman feasting on her husband, picked up her daughter from the lazy chair she'd been laying in and ran to the nursery, slamming and locking the door behind her.

She set Sophia on the changing table, stuffing diapers, ointment, bottles, pacifiers, and tubs of formula into the biggest baby bag she could. Ripping open the wardrobe she added onesies, booties, hats, winter clothes, till the bag was nearly full, the closet almost empty. She grabbed a few toys for the baby and zipped the bag up, dropping to her stomach and reaching for the loose floorboard under the crib. Pulling, she cried out when a jagged nail sliced deeply into her hand, but the board came free, with a wince she threw it away and pulled up the one next to it.

She grabbed the duffle bag inside the empty space beneath. It held her photo albums from her childhood, a coffee can fill of money and a week's worth of clothes and food and water. Shouldering both bags she swaddled Sophia, kicked the screen out of the window and crawled out, full out sprinting to the truck.

Settling Sophia into the car seat she took off, the doors locked. Carol Peletier didn't look back at the house, or the man she'd left there. She didn't even feel upset about it. Looking around she was sickened by the destruction and fear around her. The screaming was definitely the worst.

Bodies lay everywhere, some were getting up, or were up, wandering aimlessly. Some were being fed from, cleared clean down to the bone. Carol felt nauseous, but just kept going. She drove over people, half alive, half dead some worse off than others. So many screamed for help, screamed for to stop or save them but she couldn't. Carol was a mother now, and her baby was her only love in this life. She had to keep her little girl safe.

Carol drove till nightfall, stopping at a gas station that seemed to have been abandoned previously in the day. It hadn't been raided well so Carol stocked up on pain killers and first aid supplies, just in case. Settling Sophia in a large, empty, potato chip box she finally took a long moment to look at herself.

She hadn't even noticed she was covered in blood until she saw it staining Sophia's blanket. It soaked and stained her hands, making her sick. She disinfected the cut on her hand, wrapped it in sterile gauze and taped it firmly. It stung like a bitch so she popped a couple of pain killers.

She heaved into the toilet in the bathroom, when the smell of blood got too much for her, and filled the bowl with water from a dirty bucket after she was done, till it force flushed automatically. She settled a mass of her clothes down on the floor, pillowing her head on her duffle bag, and tried to sleep but ended up just nursing a bottle of tea. After a while she dozed off her daughter clutched to her chest.

* * *

His chest was heaving as he took the stairs two at a time. The walls, walls he'd grown up touching and passing every day, once a pretty cream color were now splattered and smeared with blood and clumps of what looked like flesh. She shouldered open the pink door, Bethie had thrown a fit till pa finally got around to painting it, and looked around, eyes wide and fearful. He grabbed the nearest duffle bag and jammed her clothes in it, her photos and anything nearby. He picked up her favorite photo album and her stuffed giraffe that rattled when you shook it without taking the time to really look at what else he grabbed. Tears were streaming down his face which was streaked with his mother's blood and soot both smearing when he wiped them. Shawn zipped up the bag and looked out the window, to the dead stumbling toward his house: he couldn't believe he losing everything. He would make sure Beth was safe, that was his number one priority above all. He'd made a promise to his pa and would do his damnedest to keep it.

Shawn grabbed Beth up, literally, grabbed her right up from her bed and took off running, his baby sister in one arm, swinging his metal baseball bat pop had given him with the other. He loaded her, blankets and stuffed animals all, into the truck cab and grabbed the bag of emergency stuff he always kept in the back of the bed. He'd been planning for this for an embarrassingly long time. Climbing in the cab he took out another zombie, Mr. Chang, a man who worked at the dry cleaning place downtown. Shawn got one look at him, his face a mesh of blood and meat, before his bat smashed into the side of the dead man's skull with a sickening crunch. He kicked the body away and got into the cab, slamming the door with a squeak.

Fumbling, he jammed the key into the ignition and took off down the road, away from his farm, his family, his life. Everything was gone. All he had left was his little sister, who was barely fifteen. Hell, he wasn't even twenty yet. Now the weight of the world rested on his shoulder and he didn't know if he could handle it.

The farm had become overrun with the dead less than an hour ago, he'd watched his pop hold his dying mother in his arms and scream at him to get to Beth. Maggie had disappeared in the shed to tend to the horses, a few hours before things had gone to shit, so there was no knowing if she was alright or not.

As he drove, weaving through some of the dead and plowing into others, he looked to his baby sister, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. She was still mostly asleep and Shawn wanted her to stay that way as long as possible. He flicked on the radio, the same station Beth had always listened to help her sleep, but there was an emergency broadcast blaring.

Shawn wanted to turn it off, not wanting to wake her. but he knew it could very well save their lives. He turned it down and listened intently to the distinctly male voice speaking through the crackling static.

"Word from the nation's top scientist about the zombie virus that started just a few days ago. Be advised the symptoms to watch for are aggression and unbelievable hunger, be advised the only way to take them down is to shoot them in the head. Once bitten or scratched you will turn. Avoid the infected at all costs. The army strong hold in Atlanta is hosting a refuge center. All healthy survivors are advised to head there."

The message began repeating itself and he flicked the radio off. Taking the back roads he only saw a few of the zombies and felt the tensing in his shoulders slowly leave him. As long as they stayed away from populated areas they were sure to be alright, or, at least, he hoped so. The radio had said there was a guarded strong point in Atlanta and Shawn decided to head there. The city was a strange place, but he didn't want to risk missing a safe zone.

"Don't you worry Bethie, I promised pa I'd take care of you and I'm going to. We're going to Atlanta, the military will protect us." He pulled his little sister against his side and kissed her head, driving with one arm. He didn't notice the arm around her was trembling and bloody. She was still asleep, snoring lightly, the blankets tucked securely around her. He'd have to tell her what had happened, while she was asleep, but he didn't worry about that yet. Shawn just hoped she slept till they got to Atlanta, where they'd be safe and he could explain to her rationally.

Shawn spoke to Beth as he drove, soothing her and swearing he'd keep her safe, no matter what. He told her they'd be safe in Atlanta, and that this would all blow over. He knew she was too asleep to really hear him, but he was doing it more for himself. He needed some reassurance too. They were just kids, how would the survive this? He sent a prayer that Atlanta really was a strong point.


	2. Chapter 2

Huge thanks to AgentBSmith who not only edited but wrote part of this chapter for me. He's been a wealth of knowledge. Thanks to everyone who favorited and the few of you who gave me reviews! Those are the ticket to a faster update. You want a new chapter, I want reviews, it's a win, win.

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Shawn couldn't drive any more. He didn't have it in him. The nineteen year old pulled over at a deserted looking building, the sun just now beginning to rise, picked up his bat and cautiously dropped from the truck. Beth was still sleeping soundly inside the cab, so he didn't have to worry about her. They'd stopped in at what seemed to be an abandoned gas station, it looked fairly new, so he was prepared for other people and only hoped he'd stay conscious long enough to fight them off or run if need be. He'd been driving for five solid hours and was running on two hours of sleep.

He grabbed their bags, just in case they had to leave the truck and circled the vehicle once, checking for any sign of danger.

He slowly approached the building, feet scuffing against the rough gavel, and cursed when he heard the horn going off. He turned and saw a walker pressed against the side window, Beth had her elbow jammed into the horn in her attempts to get away. Her eyes didn't leave the dead man; she was screaming and clawing at the handle she'd never been able to open well. Shawn ripped her from the cab, told her to stay put and walked around the cab taking out the walker as it stumbled to him. He took Beth by the arm, too tired to acknowledge her screams of cries, pushing open the door. He lifted his bat, his vision fuzzing slightly. He saw a small outline of someone about Beth's size before he heard a crash, then felt a sting of pain. Shawn felt his body hit the ground, heard Beth scream his name, and then everything was black.

Carol dabbed the boy's head with a cloth dipped in peroxide. The heard of walkers outside was spitting and snarling and pounding at the doors and Carol hoped Sophia could sleep through it. A baby's screams wouldn't help them any. The glass on the doors was surprisingly strong, and Carol thanked God for it. But it wouldn't hold forever.

"We'll have to move him soon, find a way out. There's a back door through the office, I moved my car back there, but I can't lift him alone and I have the baby and her supplies. He has to wake up, or at least become partially awake or we all die. And I won't let my baby die, I'm sorry." She was gently tapping Shawn's face now, hoping to wake him. She would leave these kids for Sophia. She was a mother and that was her job.

"He'll wake up. I promise. You can't leave us here, I'm only fifteen, he's barely nineteen. Please Miss. We need you." Beth wiped the tears from her eyes and nudged Shawn's shoulder with her palm gently. "Wake up Shawn. C'mon, we gotta go."

Carol knew he might have a concussion, he'd smacked his head on the table and she'd had to sew him up, a handful of ugly black stitches on his now receding hairline. Carol wasn't too worried, she knew a little too much about concussions and knew how to take care of him. Sighing, she tried to sit the boy up, gently patting his face with a wet cloth.

"Thank you, for helping us." Beth murmured as she raided for drinks and food. The woman, whose name she found out was Carol, had told her she and Shawn were welcomed to stay with her and the baby. "I don't know what happened; I woke up to a dead man trying to break into our car. Shawn killed him and when he brought me inside, well, you know the rest."

"You're welcome sweetheart. The world kind of went to Hell last night. My husband was eaten, so I took off and stopped here. You drew a heard, with all that noise." She grunted as she pushed Shawn into a sitting position, getting frustrated and dumped a bottle of water on his head. "We need to leave before the heard gets too big. Don't get bit, no matter what."

Shawn blinked and groaned, swallowing the pills shoved into his mouth stupidly. He blinked and saw the woman, opening his mouth to scream for Beth, but she was the one pushing pills and water into his mouth. He relaxed instantly, but Carol didn't let him get comfortable.

"Come on, we need to go. There are dead people everywhere." She helped him to his feet, shoved a bag at Beth and picked up Sophia and their things, along with a sharp knife. "We're going out the back door, hurry."

Shawn stumbled along, gripping Beth's arm in his attempts to keep on his feet. His head was fuzzy, his ears were ringing and he felt like he was going to throw up.

"C'mon Shawn, we're gonna get you into the car and give you something for your head." Beth murmured, all but pushing her big brother into the cab, taking the baby and settling her in Shawn's lap before hoisting Carol up.

The walkers had heard the noise and were making their way over, some faster than others. The moans were enough to send Sophia into a crying fit and Carol stomped the gas before any of the walkers could get a hold on the car.

They drove in silence for a while, Beth cooing to Sophia in attempt to soothe her. The car silent besides the two in the back. Carol drove like a bat out of hell for the next few minutes before she calmed down enough to throttle back on the gas, she glanced at the others before pulling over at the side of the road.

"I'm sorry about hitting you over the head, I thought you were one of… them." She said to the boy across from her, he nodded his head sluggishly, his head resting on the glass of the window.

"S's fine, don… don't worry." He murmured to the woman as Beth finished cooing the baby to sleep, she turned to check her brother, then turned to Carol.

"Excuse me Miss." She spoke in a soft voice, looking nervous. "Is my big brother going to be okay?"

"My name is Carol sweetie, Miss makes me sound old. And yes Beth I think he just has a concussion. Give it enough time and some antibiotics and his head will heal on it's own." She said with a small smile, glancing in the rear view mirror to get a better look at the young blonde girl.

"You really think he"ll be okay?" She asked as her eyes drifted to Shawn again. "Carol what is the plan with us? We can't just drive around forever." She opened a bottle of water and stretched forward to help Shawn, who was half awake, drink.

"I think we need to find a place to stay the night, then we find a place to stay until the government fixes all this." Carol sounded more confident then she felt. She drove for a few minutes, out of the city and into the woods, slowing when she saw smoke. After a moment of internal battling she started towards it, and ended up taking a turn onto a quarry. She glanced around, cautious and wary and slowed to a stop in front of an RV. There was an elderly man standing on top in a fishing hat with a rifle slung over his shoulder who waved at them. Heads began popping up from behind clothes lines and out of tents as the group began welcoming the new arrivals.

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A little bit short I know. But reviews anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

"C'mon now boy! They ain't very many of 'um right now. We gotta go while the gettin's good!" Merle tightened his hand on the knife he held.

"Nah, look, summons drivin' up." Daryl was trying to stall. He didn't want to rob good people. He loved and respected his elder brother, he'd die for his blood, but he didn't want to end up like their dad. He'd promised himself he'd be better than that scumbag.

The car drove up, a little wobbly and out came a woman, two teenagers and a baby. A fucking baby. Daryl knew they couldn't do it. Now with and baby in the mix. He shook his head and cursed, going back to making his arrows, eyes narrowed. Merle was stomping around and looking for something to break, kicking at piles of wood and stumps.

"Summabitch! We can't fuckin' loot these spicks, niggers and pigs wit' a fuckin' baby. That ain't right. And I sure as fuck don't want some fuckin' baby with us. Summabitch!" He sent an empty glass bottle shattering on a near by tree. The rest of the group looked in their direction, weapons raised, till they realized it was just Merle having a bitch fit. Nothing new.

"M'gonna get some water. You want anything?" He had a bit of cooked squirrel in his hands and was sucking the grease from his fingers. He snorted when Merle jerked his head toward the little blonde bitch who always hung on the younger one, maybe they were sisters. He thought one of their names was Amy or Annie or something. His brother, forever the horny creeper. Daryl knew Merle would be in a bitchy, whiny mood most of the day and just started walking toward camp, glancing to the truck for a better look.

The boy seemed to have a concussion he was being supported by a pretty little blonde, Jesus, another blonde? And his head lolled around, like it was too heavy for his scrawny neck. The girl seemed to be struggling and all that was around was that old man with the stupid fishermen's hat. Daryl grumbled and pushed the girl away, helping the man into the RV and setting him down. Jesus, he had a gnarly mark on his head.

"He's got a concussion, can anyone treat him?" Asked the woman when they lowered him into the RV seat, he glanced at the woman and appraised her, she had short, cropped hair and she looked like a stick, barely any meat on her bones. Her shirt was covered in blood and walker gore and when she looked him in the eyes something unknown passed through him, something like a wave of electricity or fire running through his veins.

"I don't think so lady, no one here's trained medically" he replied gruffly, he swallowed as he noticed her lips moving so he looked away and moved out of the RV. He walked quickly over to the hicks campfire away from the others and sat down on his tree stump.

'That was strange' he thought to himself. He saw Merle rummaging around in his tent before cursing loudly, his rough demeanor was rubbing the people here the wrong way… He looked up at Merle as he stomped out of the tent and sighed.

"Aint got no booze boy, gonna… 'borrow' some." He said with a sly grin as he walked over to the RV, as he got closer, the young blonde walked out with the woman who had the baby in her arms, they were talking quietly as he approached.

"Hey there ladies, I don't suppose you happen to have any booze?" He asked as he approached the door. The two gave him looks that said 'Are you serious?'

"No, we don't." Said the young blonde, pouting up at him as he drew up to them.

"Damn sugar, you remind me of a girl I use ta date, you a student?" He asked.

"Yeah, why?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at the redneck as he came slightly closer.

"You take French?" He asked, nearly next to her now.

"Yes, why?" She said as she backed away a bit.

"In that case: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" He said with a sickly looking grin, she looked appalled at him.

"Oh, you pig!" She said as she turned, he reached his hand out to grab her but Carol slapped his hand down and stole his knife from his belt and held it to his throat.

"Try that again…" She said threateningly as he lowered his arm.

"Why you so bothered missy?" He asked, keeping his cool despite the blade being held to his throat.

"She's fifteen!" Carol said heatedly. He reeled a little from that, he thought she was legal…

"What's going on here?" Asked a voice behind them, she turned her head to see a man with short black hair with a baseball cap on it, emblazoned with 'POLICE' on it, in his hands is a pump action shotgun that he held firmly.

"Nothing officer, jus' a lil cat fight." Merle muttered as he backed away from Carol and stomped back to his campfire.

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A million thanks to AgentBSmith who is pretty much co-writing this story with me. He edits everything, adds helpful into and contributes to the chapters, if you have been noticing the change in tone. Without him your updates would be far less well written and far slower. So go check out his stories and give him some love.

As always, reviews make for happy authors, happy authors make for more updates! Thanks guys, for all your support.


	4. Chapter 4

Carol couldn't get Sophia to stop crying. Maybe her ears ached, it could be the elevation change. Sighing, Carol bounced her little girl on her hip, singing to her softly as she attempted to get the baby back to sleep. Thankfully Sophia wasn't /really/ crying, it was more of a quiet blubbering, even as a baby she'd learned screaming meant getting unwanted pain from Ed.

Carol sighed, pacing the small patch around the fire. She'd politely left the RV so the others could sleep. She was the one who had brought a baby into this world and she'd have to be the one to care for her. No one else was going to do it for her and she shouldn't keep the others up because she couldn't get her baby to settle.

"Ye girl a'ight?" The voice was rough and Carol jumped, brandishing her knife in fear. "Fuck lady, easy! Jus' came ta make sure ya damn brat wasn't dying." Daryl's voice grew surly at the end and he gave her a harsh glare, pulling back his lip in a sneer.

Carol thought he looked, well, dangerous. Sleeveless shirt, rippling muscles, filthy jeans and a rope of squirrels, rabbits or whatever else around his hips, yeah, he was dangerous. She didn't put her knife away, he reminded her of Ed. He seemed like the kind of man that was angry, violent and prone to lashing out. Rocking Sophia, she nodded, keeping her head down. She knew better then to look up at a man who thought he was better then you. "We're just fine, thank you. She's just a little colicky, her ears hurt."

"Why the fuck do her ears hurt? Ya beatin' her or some shit?" He looked a little disgusted. Maybe it was the dad though, come to think of it, this bitch didn't look like she could hurt much of anything, really.

"No. I'd never hit my child." She looked appalled and, honestly, rather angry. "The elevation change. She's just a baby, her ears have to pop on their own, she can't pop them like we do. She's probably hurting." Carol cooed to the baby. "The louder she cries, the wider her mouth, the more likely the pressure in her head will decrease. I don't like having to let her cry, but there isn't really any other way to get her to stop."

He didn't say anything, a tad shocked at the woman's smartness. (Yes, I mean smartness not intellect. This is red-neck trailer trash thinking, not someone who knows words like literate and intellect. Not to say Daryl isn't smart, he is- I'm babbling) She hardly looked old enough to be a momma, let alone a smart one. Nodding, he looked around. "Ya shouldn' be out afta dark. Them bastards do better at night. Dunno why. Guess it's cause they don' see too good or some shit li'e that."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, but thank you. I do know how to handle myself." She flipped the knife, somewhat clumsily, and ended up slicing into her palm. "Crap." She scrambled, looking for a place to set Sophia so she could look at her hand, the now bloody knife laying in the leaves. Tears pricked her eyes, but it definitely wasn't the worst pain she'd ever felt, but it did smart something fierce.

Daryl tried not to laugh, he really did. "Damn, ya clumsy fuck, lemme see ya hand." He pulled a clean bandana from his back pocket and wrapped it around the cut on her palm. "Once ya get ya ass inside fin' some per-ox-ide an' get it on that cut or it'll get infected." Daryl felt a yawn coming on and he let it pass, before looking at the baby. "She sure ain't noisy, is she?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. I never did get your name." She offered a slight, some what friendly smile. Her palm didn't sting so bad yet and she knew the peroxide would help. She would though, keep the bandana for a bandage. Carol stiffened slightly at his words. "She uh, she didn't have a very good daddy. Learned to keep quiet quickly." And that was all she seemed to want to say about it.

"Daryl." He murmured, turning and nodding, pausing for a moment. "What's yours?" Frowning he just nodded. He knew a dad that would beat a crying baby a little too well. Frowning, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Carol Ann." She smiled again, wider this time. "It's nice to meet you, Daryl. Thanks for the help." She adjusted the sleeping baby on her chest. It was getting cooler now and she didn't want Sophia to be exposed to the cold. A sick baby in a world with no doctors wasn't ideal.

"Don't be forgetting your knife. Go on, get back inside." And with that, he turned and walked back to his and Merle's camp. He wondered just what that little woman and the tiny baby in here arms had been through. Did she wear scars like his? Ugly, dark marks that left you feeling vulnerable and weak? Shaking his head he tapped a pack of cigarettes he'd 'borrowed' from a drug store and ripped it open. Lighting one with a match.

"Ya can't save them all Dixon." He murmured to himself, after wonder what he could do to help the woman. "Focus on survivin'. Don't need some tramp an' her rugrat fuckin' up ya plans. Ya a Dixon, gotta look out for Dixons. No one else is worth a shit." These words had been beaten into his head by Merle, but somehow, they'd never set right with him. Even now they left a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

"'Ey sugartits. What do ya say we go bump some uglies up in them there trees. Don' really matter you're only a mouse now, there ain't no cops to bust my ass for getting some sweet, young pussy. Whatda ya say?" Merle leant up against the tree next to the part of the lake Beth was scrubbing her and Shaun's things in. He was chain smoking a cigarette and watching her with a bemused expression.

The washboard was settled awkwardly between her knees and she was having a hard time pushing the shirt up and down the rough material. Beth had never done laundry a day in her life. Her hands ached and her body was tired but she just kept pushing up and down, up and down, trying to get the blood from her brother's shirt.

"Mr. Dixon, my daddy taught me it isn't polite to say nasty things to your elders, so I say this with all do respect." She looked directly into his eyes. "Fuck you." And with that she took her and Shaun's now clean things, piling them into the box and dragging them up the hill to the others and the RV. She'd promised Shaun she'd try to hurry and that had been hours ago.

Merle stood there a minute, staring at her ass in those pants and swallowed, tugging at his junk. "Damn fine ass ya got there sweet cheeks. Li'e ta see what ya could do wit' it." He hooted when her middle finger was the response.

She got a few more steps before she stumbled, sending the clothes into the dirt, well, actually, the mud. Beth sat up, salvaged the clean things that hadn't gone out of the bucket and began to cry over her brother's muddy jeans. She'd been wasn't since abut nine AM and, if her watch was right, it was now four thirty in the afternoon.

"Why the fuck ya cryin'? Ya jus' gotta wash 'um again. Reckon it'd be somethin' ya's enjoy. Ya a woman ain't'cha?" He was expecting her to laugh, but frowned when she just began to cry harder.

Merle Dixon was a sick, crude man, but he didn't like making women cry. Drunk, strung out junkies sure, but not some little girl. Sighing he picked up the muddy things and gripped the girl's arm, helping her to her feet.

"C'mon sugah, I'll help ya get ya things up this here hill then I'll see what I can do bout this mud, a'ight?" He wouldn't wash the clothes, he'd get Darlina or someone else to do it, but she offered him a smile and it helped ease his guilt.

Keeping one hand on her arm and holding the box in the other Merle helped Beth up the hill, away from the quarry and to the group.


	5. Chapter 5

"M'goin' on a run. Ya need anythin'?" Daryl asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He spoke softly, lazily, if a bit sheepish about it. Carol was feeding Sophia, a blanket thrown over her chest and Daryl made sure to look the other direction.

"Some diapers and a pacifier or two if you can manage. No rush though, we can survive a while." She offered him a polite smile, but her eyes said she was withdrawn, scared. "Thank you though." Her smile tightened at the corners.

The day was fairly warm, there were people doing a little of everything, washing clothes, hunting for food, settling up supplies and various other odds and ends. Carol was sitting outside the RV in a lawn chair, gently patting the baby's butt and soothing her gently. Sophia was done with breakfast so Carol adjusted herself from under the blanket and set the baby on her shoulder to be burped. She looked to Daryl again, wary of men like him.

"A'ight. I 'an find ya both sommin'. Anythin' ya want yaself?" Daryl offered a light smile, glancing over quickly, noticing she was done and turning to her. His expression was relaxed and, though he gripped the knife on his hip, he seemed relaxed.

"Some caffeine, soda or something, if you can manage." She murmured, speaking softly. Her head was down as she began burping Sophia, making sure she didn't have gas, "I'm coming down from a caffeine addiction and my head is killing me." She spoke with hesitation, as if speaking alone was reason enough for her to get into trouble.

"A'ight." He murmured, nodding and walking off. He had a list of medical supplies from Jaqui, now the things for the baby and Carol, he figured Merle wouldn't bother asking anyone if they needed anything, so he went into the camper, looking for the little blonde girl. "Got me trekkin' all over this fuckin' camp. I ain't some housewife,"

Daryl finally found Beth, tucked with a book, at her brother's bedside. "M'goin' on a run ya want anythin'? I got the list for ya brothah." He picked up a pen, scribbling down what the woman and her baby needed, before his eyes flickered to Beth.

"Oh, no thanks. The man you spend time with, I don't know his name-"

"Merle."

"Oh. Right." Beth seemed to make a mental note. "Merle already came and asked me, I told him a few things, thank you both, for going out. You're so brave." The fifteen year old smiled admiringly up at Daryl.

He just shook his head and walked out, going for his crossbow and arrows.

-Half an Hour previous-

"'Ey sugartits, me and mah brothah are headin' out, can I get ya anythin'?" Merle leant against the doorframe of the RV watching Beth's ass as she bent to run a cool rag over Shaun's forehead. "I can get ya a vibrator for that pretty lil' pussy if ya like." He smirked, stepping a tad closer. "Seein' as I can't show ya how good a real man."

Beth turned, flushed, and got directly into Merle's face. "You are a dirty, crude, disgusting old man." Her hands beat at his chest, but did very little, if any damage to the barrel chested man. She stepped back and shook her head. "I'd like some body wash and shampoo please, some scissors if you can find them, everyone could use a good hair cut." With that she turned and walked off.

-Present-

Carol didn't know how she'd ended up with Daryl. He'd claimed not to know what size diapers to get, or how to tell if they were the right kind. So she'd given Sophia to Beth, one of the few people she actually trusted, and had loaded up onto the back of Daryl's bike, an empty backpack on her back, a bag half full of supplies tucked between them.

They'd ended up getting cornered by some walkers and were now jammed into a supply closet.

"Settle in, we gonna be 'ere a while."

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I am so sorry it has been so long since I updated! Life got kinda crazy for a while and I sorta lost inspiration, those reviews of yours are all I have with the mid-season break in place. So please send reviews, private messages, whatever you like! Thanks for all your support. This is a short chapter because my muses are trying to kick Start.


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